Chapter 6

***FITZ POINT OF VIEW***

That husband of hers is a piece of work. I knew he was peculiar when he first approached me, all shambling limbs and angry venom. I put that down to his illness. Now I know he is furious that he cannot enjoy the beauty he has under his roof.

What a beauty she is. I doubt she has any idea she is one of the rarest women in England. I have done my share of Seasons, balls and grand houses but she is spectacular. Those eyes are so blue, never have I met someone whose blue eyes are warm. They are sea-coloured, as are a thousand other women of virtue, but there is a depth, a warmth paired with the deep blue hue.

It is why I was such a buffoon to her. Truth be told she completely took me by surprise when she turned around. I had expected her to be a dim, insipid creature. The typical Duchess, all teeth and no chin. She turned around and I found myself resorting to childish mockery. Of course I didn't have permission to ride Figaro. In fact the bastard nag threw me off a mile down the road but she didn’t have to know that.

What mattered is the way her face lit up under a challenge.

Lying in my quarters now I feel myself stiffening in my pants all over again at the memory of her. Not the start, that was quite frankly disgusting. I felt dirty just for entertaining the fact that Edmund was delivering his wife like one would a dead cow to an abattoir.

For a man of distinction, such superior breeding he seems to delight in wounding her. He had made his rules clear to me. I was to breed her. I was not to focus on her enjoyment but to get the job done as many times as possible in as short a space of time.

He strikes me as a man who has never been with a woman outside of a whorehouse. He has no idea the things a woman's soft moan can do to a soul. When she asked me to touch her, those blue eyes shimmering in the dark of the room, I felt something stir within me. It has been a long time since I shared a bedchamber with a woman. Never one as radiant as her.

I had tried my best to be chivalrous. I had lit the fire myself, ensured the room was clean and freshly aired. My grand plan was to not touch her at all. Seeing as there is no possibility of forming a connection with her, my plan seemed foolproof. It should work if the dates tie up with what the servants have told His Grace.

But then she made it complicated.

Slowly hitching her dress up, taunting me with her bare legs. I wanted to kiss, grab, paw my way along her thighs. I could see my face planted between her legs. I wanted to feel her whole body shake whilst her legs trapped my face to her mound. Of course, that is not Vanessa. Or I thought not.

When I released myself for the second time I saw hunger in her eyes. She was not enduring my touch, she was enjoying it. Indeed she wanted more of it. The temptation of the greatest possible variety was laid before me. The most beautiful woman I have ever beheld, and she was in bed, allowing me to touch her. To feel between her most private folds.

The fact her centre was already soaking wet before I touched her, the way her face fixed on my shaft as I pleasured myself sent me a bit dizzy. She slapped me today, she never mentioned that tonight. In fact she said very little compared to her previous fire. I had wondered if she would do it again.

In my mind, the next time she goes to slap me, I’ll grab her wrist and kiss her. But that would break every rule.

And I cannot afford to break the rules.

Tomorrow is another day, another late night interlude. My cock is hard at the thought of seeing her again. What if she wants more? How much of my will can she bend. I was strong tonight. The idea she thinks she is defective is utterly laughable. She is perfection itself.

I may have given The Duchess the impression I was here for the entertainment of it all but the truth is, Edmund has me dancing through hoops too. We are both puppets on his string and must not fall foul of his games.